<—–(note – not me, although i had my share of flopping into piles of snow and having to dig out)

had left my body thoroughly worked out.

Throw in 3 hours of driving down snaky, snow-packed road across some of the country’s highest mountain passes, and you got yourself a potentially stressed out person.

—–

It’s a nice thing then, in this situation, to find oneself waking up in Glenwood Springs the morning after. And although i wasn’t feeling particularly stressed, neither was i about to miss the opportunity to have a swim in a natural-hot-spring-fed-unnaturally-rectangular pool. So after my morning ablutions, i stepped outside, bathing suit in hand, and was immediately overwhelmed by a feeling that skiers call “bluebird.”

A world emerging out of 3 days of snow into sunshine glitters like a jewel, and it certainly doesn’t hurt if the place you happen to find yourself at is this picturesque. just imagine dipping into a pool fed by a hot spring in this setting.

but lingering in a hot pool has a tendency to cook all my energy, so after about an hour i had to will myself away from languishing in the water, and set course northwest. onward, to the Wasatch.

—–

Utah is a magical place. it’s immediately palpable: something within me, as soon as i pass a giant aptly-shaped sign telling me i’m in dinosaur country, responds with a deep sense of awe and wonder.

—–

It’s not that driving through Rifle (suprisingly cute and inviting town/shooting range), Rangely (it’s a great place to live, we swear it on our signs, you can work on the oil rigs), and Dinosaur (if Northeastern Utah is gonna claim all the dinosaur museums, we better name this town after em to get a piece of the action) in Northwestern Colorado didn’t offer its share of insights and musings; but these were all swept aside and forgotten upon crossing into Utah.

i’m not sure these pics quite convey the way nature steps up intensity in Utah, but they’re the ones i have so they’ll have to do for now.

It’s getting dark, but i’m nearing my destination – a bed in a hostel for a week in Salt Lake City.

—–

tomorrow, we’ll explore some Utah skiing, some hostel living, and maybe learn some lessons about the intelligence of life.

i’m sure utah has some official state motto type thing and this may or may not actually be it. but when they want your tourism dollars you’ll often see it written thusly:

Utah: The Greatest Snow On Earth.

—–

unbeknownst to me (yet), there is only one resort here that my pass grants access to: the canyons, in park city, a 30 minute drive from my doorstep. this statement will make much more sense tomorrow, when the next morning’s confusion is revealed. but for now, just consider the mysterious statement as an excuse to tell you where the next few pictures (and the previous) were taken.

—–

—–

the canyons resort is absolutely massive, almost large enough to rival the mothership itself, Vail. i started on the right (technically, skier’s left).

—–

everything here seems to be fair game for skiing; as long as you’re not deterred by all the doomandgloomsmanship on the sidecountry gates. the gist of it, for those of you who haven’t seen them: “if we have to come rescue you in there, you’re either dead or paying.”

I hoofed it to check the snow on top of Murdock Peak, and was inspired to take the pictures above.

one of my fellow hikers offered to take a picture of me on top; he took 3, bless his soul, and that’s the best one. i found a nice looking spot to drop in, and then did.

—–

i’ll say it again: Utah is magic. part of that magic is the snow. it’s so fluffy you can’t even make a snowball. when it’s not snowing, the air up here on the mountains glitters.

at this point in time, however, there is not as much snow up here as in Colorado when i left. this means running into the occasional hazard blocking the way down.

hazards are simply a factor in riding snow. they are a device, sent by the spirit of skiing, to teach us to overcome. it doesn’t matter how they are overcome, it’s always a learning experience.
i am here to learn.

—–

sometimes i stop in the woods and just sit for a while, listening to the silence. the trees know i’m here. the aspens* actually have eyes, and they watch me.

i watch back.

* ~ More accurately, Aspen – we have discovered that entire aspen forests in fact connect at their root, forming a single organism.

—–

Later in the day, i travel around to discover some massive steep bowls.

Wait a minute, i don’t see a Mt. anywhere around here. it’s just Brighton. why aren’t the gates opening before my mighty pass?

the liftie shuffles over. “epic pass? i think they take that over at canyons, man.”

so i looked it up: it turns out there is a Brighton in Utah, and a Mt. Brighton – in Michigan.

—–

With a massive place like canyons to explore, i certainly don’t need to be buying lift tickets.

but life has got me standing right here at the gates of Brighton. i might feel angry, or stupid, or succumb to a downward spiral of shouldings, blames, and couldas. and in fact, i observe the parade of all these possibilities pass through me.

but they are like wisps; transparent, and in the face of a new possibility shining like the risen sun on a glittering snowy slope, utterly insignificant.

we’re here for the vicariousness, are we not? let’s check out Brighton.

—–

i felt it from the beginning, the familiar excitement tinged with heightened tendrils of a darker vibration. like all occurrences in my life, it is inevitable, and ever was, and will be forever. i am meant to be here, and learn my lesson.

—–

Brighton!

while the canyons is a fantastically fun and massive place with much to explore, there is something extra special, extra beautiful, extra sharp around the edges about Brighton. if you are passionate about snowsports and you find yourself in Big Cottonwood Canyon, make it a destination. but before you do, make sure you understand whose advice you’re taking.

—–

the lessons i was taught at Brighton ran deep, and so i’m going to end this post here in order to give the next its own place. it was certainly intense enough to warrant special treatment.

when Juan ventures alone into the world, no matter the arena of life in question – a progression takes place, playing through like a musical scale.

in his enthusiasm, he may stray afield in the innocent curiosity of exploration and come across a moment of truth.

and like our friend Juan i did just that, looking for stashes, following the powder snakes. ducking into trees, riding the trail edges, dipping in and out of bounds. this isn’t anything special; it’s a natural point in every snowist‘s development, when he grows bored of the piste and begins to explore beyond the machine-groomed surface.

at this stage of the game i must have been getting a little too confident with it, because on Mt Millicent it sent me right into the classroom.

—–

ever since i can remember, i’ve had a very interesting relationship with fear. always prodding at it, poking a toe in, testing the waters. fear has been a guiding force in my life in more ways than one. and it has always been a wonderful teacher. if i don’t seem to get it, the fault lies entirely with the student.

i just wanted to make something clear before the story begins in earnest: i’m not trying to be dramatic. i mean sure, i sprinkle a bit of drama here and there for vicariousness’s sake, and set stuff up with a certain flair. how else can i bring you closer to my experience in that moment? but in all honesty, i want to mention here that the moments i truly felt my life might be in danger during this day were, in actual fact, few if any.

certainly though, Juan wouldn’t even want to hurt a toe, because Juan can’t snowboard without his fear-poking toe.

—–

i strap in and traverse to the left (skier’s right) of the Milly Express, staying on the highest track i can manage.

i should probably confess at this point: i haven’t been doing the best job of consulting trail maps, in general. i take a casual glance, but prefer to let the mountain lead me in person. I vaguely knew there were cliffs somewhere, but the track was well grooved. if it led to them, surely there wouldn’t have been so much apparent traffic to get over there?

If your eyes are shrewd, you are starting to see where this is going.

—–

this particular snake finally flows down into a well slashed powder field. the traverse was long enough for me to suspect i won’t make it over here again any time soon, and it was a nice day, so i start taking pictures. the cliffs towering silently above me are humbling:

the views, as tends to be the case in Utah, stunning in every direction

and the terrain below, well, par for the course if a bit on the steep side:

i put away the camera, and pointed the nose downhill with zeal.

—–

if at this point you think to yourself, caution would have been the wiser, consider this:
how can you learn anything wise from fear, if the moment it comes up something is done to avoid the potential danger?

but i’m not thinking anything of the sort in that moment; i’m shredding, excited to see what kinda goodies lay ahead.

—–

the turns are not as fluffy as i’d hoped, but the snow is soft and heavy in the sunlight. i am too focused on the 3 upcoming turns to look very far ahead, and anyway it’s too steep for looking to be of much use. and suddenly the turns come to an end. i was at the top of the cliff, with a choice between 2 chutes that looked uninvitingly narrow, and two more options i couldn’t see very well. i decided to chance it.

—–

my heart, pounding thus far with sidecountry excitement, changes rhythms. the rhythm of fear: slower, heavier, darker beats. my muscles tight with unnoticed and unnecessary tension, i cautiously traverse across to get a look at the last two, and immediately regret it. these are even narrower, and there is no “undo cliff” button anywhere in sight. why were there no signs?!?

oh right. i’m out of bounds.

—–

balanced there on the end of a spine between two cliff chutes, i remembered you, dear vicarious you. and so gingerly, as much as delicate toeside balance and cold hands would allow, i snapped two shaky pictures. above and below:

the best course of action i could come up with was to jump, turn 45 degrees in two axes, and land flat on that snow covered rock peeking out in the center of the chute, into an immediate heelside turn.

—–

it looks like a good 8-10 foot diagonal hop into some really steep terrain, and i have no idea what’s beyond view. my only recourse is something i’ve never before done very successfully. At this point my fear peaks, and in doing so triggers a response within me. i suddenly remember myself.

—–

breathing deeply, i observe my situation from a more detached perspective – a dude teetering in fear on a cliff. i suddenly recognize the significance of the moment, my presence in the classroom, the importance of the lesson, the consequences of the fear, the height of adventure, the presence of Terrestrial Intelligence. and i smile, despite myself, and thank my stars for putting me here – because if i knew these cliffs were there, i would never have come alone.

—–

from this perspective i recognize 2 forces in a stalemate, keeping me hanging there on the precipice. on the one hand, life has brought me here and to retain my freedom to move i have to get off this cliff. on the other, fear has got me frozen to the spot.

a third force must be summoned to overcome the deadlock. this force must be supplied by my next action.

—–

this action which manifests the third force to neutralize the fear, and in accordance with which i must act, itself consists of 3:

knowledge – of what must be done

will – to initialize action

faith – an unshakable trust that my body knows how

i look within, and see the ingredients there. consciously relaxing the tensions in my body first, i unite the 3 into one attitude. it feels like love, for life and its endless opportunities. the fear drowns in it, the moment to be seized is here.

i jump.

welcomed by a field of fluffy and obstacle free moguls, i fall over into the soft snow in the sun, beaming with gratitude.

in hindsight, it looks like this:

—–

this experience has me on a rather ecstatic high. Brighton is breathtaking, not that this is so hard to find around these parts. but i felt distinctly as if the mountain was conscious of me, guiding my adventures, whispering directions into my whims. i feel very connected, happy, and despite the earlier fear experience or perhaps because of having passed through it, safe in this guidance. and then Billy calls for some vicarious snowboarding.

—–

vicarious snowboarding with billy in my pocket is a blast. i imagine he feels like he’s playing a video game, reading the map and guiding me realtime through the trees. I’m inside the video game; i hear him in my helmet. i don’t know if we are the first to claim this, and i don’t wanna start a new fad or anything, but it’s like, a thing.

—–

too cocky a thing, as it turns out. i take an ill-advised turn, and end up in some sketchy looking business. This time i have no time for fear.

remembering my lesson from earlier, i try to make shorter work of the whole affair, but in the midst of the excitement and phone games, i’d forgotten myself, and worse, forgotten about Brighton.

multitasking, as my dear friend EBD once said to me in her inimitably lovable manner, is bullshit. i couldn’t agree more.

—–

i jump in to make the turn, but misjudge the snow; it’s deceptively soft with a stump underneath. my nose catches and i go cartwheeling backwards through the trees.

All drama aside, this actually is a dangerous situation: and let’s be honest – not my first on the snow, or off it. i’ve had my share of near misses in this life, and if you think avoiding actively courting danger is safe, think again: anything can happen anywhere, at any time, and if i wasn’t already so painfully verbose, i could give plenty of examples.

—–

the first ragdoll backward cartwheel (my specialty) whips me through a gap unharmed, but unfortunately offers no purchase on my momentum; at the end of the second, a thankfully young and thin birch does what i can’t and stops me. very abruptly.

i sit up, my bell ringing, and survey the damage. bruised left arm, but ok. i take a picture of my second classroom, this one offering a lesson along the lines of humility and responsibility.

helmets help you live more.

—–

Brighton is open til 9pm, but my riding has become loose and sloppy by 5. i don’t think i could survive another lesson today. i thank the mountains with a deep sense of connection, awe, and humility, and drive out the canyon into the sunset.

—–

meanwhile, right now – after a day off from riding (spent sightseeing and typing up blog posts in SLC) we’ve come a bit closer to caught up. I’ve ridden twice more at canyons since, and there are some pics and a few ups and downs, but they’ll have to wait.It’s back to the mountains tomorrow, and then westward again. more snow is coming, and probably a lot of it.
until next time, signing off from Salt Lake City,
yours truly

Utah has treated me well, and taught me some good lessons. its beauty and vibrance are etched in my mind.

i will return, and probably soon. but for now my time in SLC is up, and i have to make it to Tahoe before nightfall turns this massive rain into snow.

—–

the desert plains of Nevada, surrounded by mountains, carry a majesty that dwarfs me, crawling along at 80mph in my little red westbound road bubble.

the dashed lines of the road beat a rhythm into my eyes. on the sides, sagebrush and tumbleweeds blur into continuity. beyond them the occasional shrub or boulder moves more slowly across my field of vision. the mountains far in the distance are more still, growing so slowly as to be imperceptible.

different depths of field offer different dimensions of rhythm. each feels slightly different; each is reflected within me in many subtle ways as i lock into its groove.

the nearest ridges cut across the mountains that line the horizon, taking up the view. they hide the furthest terrain, jumping to the front like worries in a troubled mind; but inevitably they give out, falling behind to disappear into the rear view, leaving the line of sight open.

i fix my gaze on the distant range, and lock into a greater wavelength. after a few seconds of focus, my thoughts dissolve, leaving behind only the thudding slow rhythm of my heart. i become still like the landscape, and my awareness deepens. i experience the vibrations of the car, i feel its power and the resistance of the air. the slow seconds ticking by accelerate into a rushing river of time, the growth of the distant rocks now easily perceived.

—–

my deliberately calibrated timing is perfect. the daytime temperatures should keep precipitation liquid at all but the highest elevations along the drive. in the wide open expanse of sky i see the furthest whorls and swirls of the massive storm, expanding outward from a still center of invisible energy. i drive on in the sunshine, under the counter-swirl of emptiness between the spiraling arms of cloud, the bright blue sky above. to the south the cloud has burst. the rainstorm crescendos behind me, rising up from its edge quickly into a full fury.

—–

this time the accommodations are planned well in advance and rather luxurious. i went in on a seasonal rental share with a big group of avid snowists, and this being the first major storm Tahoe has seen at such a late point in the season, most of them are here. it’s quite the change of pace for me, having been riding alone my whole week in Utah. i resolve to pay close attention to the difference in the dynamics of riding with a crew.

i’ve had many conversations where people whose opinions i respect have contended that mankind was created to be social.

—–

sometimes, under certain conditions, it can happen that a man falls in love with all aspects of life and existence (his own as well as in the world around him). he becomes incapable of boredom. or it’s more accurate to say that the slightest tinge of boredom reminds him of his curious fascination, and fascination dispels the boredom as instantly and effectively as light does darkness.

armed with this fascination for all aspects of life, a man without boredom may become infinitely patient. he is now an oddity in modern social settings. he loses his hurries and forgets their unpleasantness. he can find himself in what others may consider the most detestably life-wasting situations, whenever that feeling of waiting-for-something-else arises (the queue at the dmv, a horrendous traffic jam, abiding in the lift line) and still enjoy within himself a fascination with the flow and function of life in his body, mind, emotions and energies. he begins to move more deliberately, slowly, taking longer to appreciate a flower, an insect, a painting, a story. he is more compelled to listen to his inner sensations, to be attentive to the world around him, cultivating receptivity in himself. he becomes less talkative (output) and more silent (input). in the process he may run a risk of becoming dull and unnoticeable socially, more solitary, individual. he forgets to move forward in the channels and ruts the normal flow of society has carved, and in doing so begins to alienate himself from the crowd. people get restless and honk at him, get pushy and shove at him, get angry and without understanding judge him eccentric or idiotic; and he has already forgotten about the inner unpleasantness of that hurried feeling, he is too busy savoring life to remember why his meditative rhythm pisses his compatriots off. he is in the minority, and may find that he doesn’t really mind it.

—–

lately i have spent a lot of time by myself. many hours of driving, some hours of writing, some self-reflecting to align and elucidate my meanings and adventures. spending time alone on the mountain, moving at my own pace. stopping in the thick of trees to hear an elusive silence. evaluating my present situations. no goals, no hurries, no worries. little to no social contact. i begin to experience a different rhythm of thought. it is paradoxical, feeling simultaneously alien to me and yet so much more natural and whole than the partial, herky jerky city rhythms i’ve grown accustomed to over decades of urban life.

my aloneness cultivates this rhythm.

—–

an aside, for the sake of clarity:

aloneness is to be distinguished from loneliness because they are oft confused but quite different, so i attempt to define both according to their usage herein.

1) aloneness, in its most superficial sense, is the state of being physically outside the range of influence of any other human beings. there are deeper levels of aloneness, which descend into the inner world of being.

for example: you can be alone and talking to yourself, browsing the internet, humming a song in your head, or planning your lunch. you might call this alone-doing. this would constitute one level of aloneness, rather towards the more superficial end of the scale.
towards the other end you might find such aloneness that is more free from language: thoughts, ideas, beliefs, worries, and plans no longer factor into what becomes a state of pure taking in, listening, experiencing.
you might call this alone-experiencing, or in an even purer state, alone-being.
such deep levels of aloneness are in fact quite difficult for a modern city dweller to attain or even understand, nearly impossible to sustain, and may take years of focused practice to get a sense of (speaking from experience).

2) loneliness, on the other hand, is simply a deep desire for companionship.

—–

back to the rhythm of aloneness: this rhythm is interrupted by more socially acceptable rhythms. the more urban the rhythm, the more out of sync with the natural rhythm of the Terrestrial Intelligence of the planet and its other dwellers. in fact, nature’s creatures do not fall out of step with their habitats unless we have somehow infringed on their normal functions. the infringements are born out of the rhythm of our thoughts, tuned to our social and cultural frequencies, focused on our conveniences and ignorant* of the natural rhythm within all life. this is humanity’s footprint.

humans sync more readily to each other than to other forms of life which they perceive as separate from and alien to themselves, and thus remain deaf to the drum that beats eternally throughout their physical existence.

i pause and feel the rhythm of my heart, and realize i’ve been ignoring its pulse. if it was up to me to maintain the beat, i’d have died of ignorance* long ago.

* – ignorance in the purest sense of the word, that of ignoring something (in these cases, something very vital).

the Snow, the Trees, the Terrain, flow with the grace of Terrestrial Intelligence.

i offer my deepest gratitude to the universe for this opportunity: the Awareness, the Life, the Body, the Mind, the Earth.

i humbly honor the possibility, provided by the generosity of Nature, by living it to the fullest.

—–

snowboarding can be spiritual in many ways. for one with an insightful eye, the secret laws that make up physical reality can be discovered by self-aware riding of water in solid phase.

—–

1) Purification of the Conscious Mind, Part I

riding teaches us that the conscious mind’s function is a simple one, made unnecessarily complex by entrenched beliefs.

for the masterful rider, the conscious mind’s function is to report sensory input to the body, and choose an overall direction. the body’s own mind* handles the complexities of adaptation of Technique to Terrain. masterful riding effects an ecstatic experience, a combination of freedom, love, and openness. riding becomes fluid, rhythmic, and effortless.

as an analogy, think of walking. the mind simply chooses the direction and records sensations. the act of walking is performed naturally by the body-mind. its functions include governing the coordination of muscles and also adapting the pressures and tensions of motion to the Terrain. the conscious mind plays no role in and most of the time is unconscious of the complex physical functions of walking; that is to say, it does not consciously “know how” walking works nor does it need to.

for a beginner rider, the conscious mind harbors a belief that it must first earn and contain the knowledge required for riding coordination and balance. this belief (expressed internally in a negative way as “i don’t know how to” or “i’m not very good at”) is false, as the body-mind is already capable of performing the necessary calculations. the conscious mind interferes with the process of riding by manufacturing a Fear-distrust**-tension reaction which takes over command of the body, manifesting as unnecessary stiffenings of movement and non-harmonious, energy-draining tensionings of incorrect posture.

even the fastest and most logically sound of conscious minds is incapable of processing and directing the body to maintain balance in varying Terrain; it’s too slow by several orders of magnitude. worse yet, in attempting to take over the body’s tasks the conscious mind becomes too overburdened to perform its own functions very well; those of choosing direction and recording sensory input. the resulting instability and wasted effort of incorrect Technique cultivate Fear energy, and the beginner looks down towards his body in instinctual self-preservation to no avail, failing to look ahead to report upcoming Terrain. the body-mind is left blind with insufficient information to respond to Terrain in a timely fashion, and the body is hobbled by unnecessary stiffness. in these ways and others, Fear increases potential for failure and injury exponentially.

* – the center of computation in the human system that – among many other astounding functions – performs the unfathomably complex calculations we refer to as “coordination” and “balance” and instructs the body’s muscles into correct motion. this center and other centers in the human system that perform calculations and initiate functions at impossible speeds are generally (in modern science and modern opinion) lumped together as “the subconscious.”

** – distrust in this case refers to the conscious mind’s distrust of the body’s innate capabilities, resulting in a tendency to take over functions rightfully belonging to the body’s subconscious mind.

—–

2) Mystique of Technique

Technique is essential to masterful riding, and experience is the only soil in which Technique can grow. as an analogy, think of a baby initially learning to walk.

this statement at first appears to contradict the previously stated notion that our conscious mind’s belief that it must first earn the technical knowledge is false. however there is no contradiction, because in fact it is not the duty of the conscious mind to learn Technique, but simply to provide information into the feedback loop by remaining conscious of sensations.

when properly fulfilled without interference this function of sensory awareness frees the body-mind to experience and allows correct rhythms of motion to develop and sink into what we call muscle memory. visual awareness of upcoming Terrain prepares the body-mind to respond with appropriate action and touch/feel awareness of the consequences of muscle pressures discriminates between correct and incorrect motion, and helps to record this knowledge into the body’s memory. thus harmonious functioning of body and mind is achieved in a perfectly closed feedback loop. Fear breaks open this loop, resulting in immediate deterioration of Technique.

—–

3) Syncopating Rhythms

riding teaches us a balanced, harmonious syncopation of seemingly opposing rhythms into a perfected whole.

in our appointed comfort zones – groomed terrains – Techniques for controlling speed, direction, and stability are developed.
this is a rhythm of control.

out of comfort, the wild Terrains of nature challenge our awareness, balance, and adaptability.
this is a rhythm of surrender.

a masterful riding rhythm is simultaneously composed of both, control and surrender entwined in syncopated harmony, capable of controlling speed, stability, and direction while adjusting and responding to varying snow textures, features of Terrain, and remaining impervious to interferences from Fear-fueled imagination.

the master’s knowing skill and physical capabilities endow him with fluid, powerful, fearless and inspired riding.

—–

4) The Importance of Efficiency

riding demands a considerable flow of energy. the beginner is plagued by the inefficiencies of misplaced efforts; tense, static, awkward postures, unnecessary clenching of muscles, incorrect motions and constant resistance to the natural forces of acceleration along the fall-line quickly drain his energies. in the short term this causes much discomfort and increases chances of injury, but in the long term it naturally serves to make the body stronger and develop stamina.

as the rider masters correct motion and rhythms Technique grows in efficiency. energy previously used to sustain unnecessary tensions becomes available to him, endowing him with new powers and capabilities (such as the ability to perform tricks, ride at higher speeds effortlessly, and adapt to more challenging conditions.)

—–

the ongoing study of the functions and consequences of Fear is an obviously integral part of Snowism. while i have superficially touched upon this topic here already, this subject warrants much deeper observation and study. this essential aspect of Snowism will be addressed in depth in the (hopefully near) future.

—–

i recognize this material can tend to be mentally dense and obscure. translating the wordless wisdom of self-awareness into a language that can be understood logically is a difficult task which i can only hope i’m doing some small measure of justice to.

in doing this, my hope is that you, as the vicarious reader, can recognize and glean some general usefulness out of my writings. the fundamental purpose of these entries dedicated to Snowism is not to express my own enthusiasm so much as to point out the depth and transformational wisdom inherent in the process of learning in general, regardless of the subject matter at hand. whether you are a lover of riding snow or not is immaterial; the point is that with sufficient passion and focus, a dedicated pursuit of any subject matter can result in profound, fundamental insights into the essential Nature of our lives.

—–

to me, religion is a lot more fun when it is chosen by the heart, rather than dogmatically enforced by cultural and educational means. i recognize, as i hope you will too, the magic of an existence in a universe where any deep and self-aware pursuit of love and passion can teach us all we need to know about making our lives an ultimately meaningful experience. this, to me, is the essence and the purpose of all religion in the history of our kind.

i’ve visited so many places and experienced so many things with such wonderful people.

it was a lovely time, and did not leave me wherewith to sink into that space of inspiration required by SFTI research.

—–

the title of this post came from an anecdote about a man who worked 80 hours a week to get his book about the 4 hour workweek published.

it’s no secret that we greatly admire a good paradox.

—–

there are a few ways to look at it.

i’m a ski bum, and i’m doing a good job of it; the body is holding up, wiry and strong. got a great-lookin goggle tan cookin, i ride full days 4-5 days a week and am traveling usually when i don’t. there is the caring for the equipment, hot wax, binding straps, dressing up and down, driving every day that can add up to a solid 40 hours a week.

but the curious thing is that where there’s love in what i am doing, it just doesn’t feel like i’ve worked 40 hours.

it feels like a 0 hour workweek.

—–

love really is the answer. not in a lofty moral to judge yourself by kind of way, but in a very immediately practical and applicable one. the more love goes into the work, the more effortless it becomes.

—–

and another thing i have learned:

it’s important not to make an easy mistake regarding this inherent need we all feel, by realizing that it’s not a need for love; it’s a need to give love. the more Juan gives, into whatever (or whomever) is in front of him, the more immediately enjoyable his life becomes.

—–

and here we come to the aforeshadowed paradox:

having taken this rare opportunity to put myself on this rigorous 0 hour work week schedule, i quickly discover that the only thing left to do is relax.

and immediately hence i am reminded that relaxation is the most taxing conscious work i’ve ever attempted.

it feels like a 168 hour workweek.

—–

tomorrow we’ll draw a map and see if we can’t dig up a few pictures of interest from along the way :)

i didn’t know much about myself until i started actually listening/feeling/observing my thoughts, instincts, responses, feelings, and energies.

and i know,

if i didn’t take time out of my routine of economy to do this and write about it, i would probably have never gotten to spend quite so much time trying to say things that i really find interesting about life as a human being. this has been a very illuminating process for me.

so thanks for being here to read this, you awesome magnificent piece of Terrestrial Intelligence you.

—–

see, i bet you thought this was gonna be a snowboarding blog. but i must remind you (and myself) that it’s not, really, about snowboarding, even when it’s all i do for months at a time and think and write about.

it’s about consciously observing the learning process, the adaptation. watching my instincts work. my body moves faster than my mind can comprehend, much less control; it’s got a built-in Terrestrial Intelligence, and its abilities and scope are so great compared to the conscious mind with which i observe that i ironically feel almost intimidated by my own capabilities (capabilities and intelligence which moves every animal on this planet).

some people have referred to this excursion i’m currently on as “finding myself,” and i find the term has too long been overused into triviality; only once i realized how little i know about myself, compared to the amount of stuff i don’t know about myself, did this expression begin to feel sufficiently fitting.

—–

here in this coffee shop in Salt Lake City, which i keep finding myself in again to write things in places with signs on the wall that say “this is intended to be a ‘quiet area'” (under which people sit and have loud conversations), it’s sunny and spring-like, approaching 70. for the sake of a certain little known group of muscles in my right foot, which have been serving as the latest vestiges of unnecessary tension in my snowboarding motions, i am taking the day off. after all, i’m not missing too much: another day riding corny slush at the same resort as i’ve been doing these last 4 days; and more or less all season long, snowboarding over and over again.

and with such musings, just when certain thoughts voiced by friends and parents in the past (don’t you ever get sick of it?) float through my mind, something deep and profound occurs to me with a mental shock that stops me for a moment in my tracks, in this case halfway through strapping my right foot into the back binding – a well practiced, repetitive motion that i’ve performed dozens of times a day almost every day for the past 2+ months.

what occurs to me is that i have a bone to pick with a seemingly harmless and useful word that i learned as a child and have been using repeatedly and without much attention for decades.

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snowboarding again? don’t you ever get sick of it? the same thing, over and over, again and again…doesn’t it get boring?

in a former mindset, i might pause to explain that it’s actually not the same thing at all. it looks similar at a casual glance; but a slightly deeper observation, with a little bit of experience, reveals that of the hundreds of trails i’ve ridden no two have ever been the same in pitch or form; of the countless times i’ve ridden the same trail, no two runs have ever had the same exact conditions; that the slight variances in temperature, season, time of day, wind, angle of the sun relative to the aspect of the slope, water content of the snow, volume of skiers with various styles of riding, my own mental, emotional, and physical state (whether i want to ride fast or slow, tricky or smooth, playful and light or heavy and strong) and too many other “small” factors to list here, make for a completely different experience on each run. that no two runs are ever the same and they never can be. that in reality the same exact set of macro and micro conditions cannot repeat in our ever-changing environment; this is only possible under artificial conditions, like in the case of a scientific experiment, and even in such a case, under the strictest controls, there will always be some factors that cannot be maintained and are simply ignored.

but this time, i focus on this harmless little word, and am utterly shocked to realize how blind it makes me.

and this word is “again”.

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now i might sit here with my high-falutin’ ideals and extol the wondrous glory of our ever-changing universe, making each moment spent on the snow potentially new and fresh and full of an excited liveliness, but the truth is that i have not always in reality LIVED this experience. I have had moments when i felt tired of “this again.” i gotta drive for 10 hours, again? i have to go to the same mountain, again? i have to ride the same trails, again? i have to bend over and strap my foot in, again, just so i can make the same turns, again, and get to the bottom where i will stop and unstrap my foot again, to ride the same chairlift again, and strap my foot in at the top…again?!?

this word – again – makes it instantly feel like a chore, makes anything feel repetitious. and no matter how much zeal i had for performing an action yesterday, when it was still fresh and new, today it’s an “again”, and instead of finding the enthusiasm that powers me effortlessly through what needs doing i feel resigned and put upon to trudge and trundle through the motions. i resist and drag my heels and mourn my lot in life, to be doomed to suffer such a repetitive, cyclical existence. and before i know it, even my beloved snowboarding can become unconscious and boring, polluted by an attitude and a range of emotions unconsciously implanted within my being by this little, innocent, useful word, again.

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the power of what seems like a small, subtle, and insignificant revelation to become a tool for one’s well-being is not lost on me. may the association of this feeling of resignation and boredom with the tainted window of perspective created by the “againness” of things always serve to remind me that i have a choice in the matter. i possess the power to decide whether to stay in this funk of woe-is-me resigned choreful existence or break this warped window, look deeper with fresh eyes, and realize that this is a different run, under different conditions, in a different time, a time called NOW, and i can therefore choose whether to just go through the motions despondently or continue to take things as fresh, see them as they are without judgments based on my past experiences, learn from them and grow.

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and this shows why this journal is not really about snowboarding; snowboarding, in this case, is merely the teacher. but the lessons learned here can be applied again and again, in any situation, to all facets of action in life, and can thusly enrich one’s ability to enjoy whatever needs doing around them under any conditions. having the knowledge of the internal choice of perspective endows a person with options and a freedom to choose one’s level of enjoyment, whether on the slopes or sitting in traffic. and, paradoxically, while it would be easy to categorize this as a subtle, meaningless “mind game” that has no bearing on the reality of the external world, the difference it makes within the Juan doing it is tremendous and in itself has easily seen and far reaching consequences that affect his surroundings significantly.

Life, after all, is here to be experienced, and if you have the power to make the conscious choice whether to shuffle suspiciously through it or enjoy every moment, which would you choose?

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In the last post i promised a map and some pictures, but as is often the case my thought takes its own journey and i am helpless to follow in fascination. so instead, this verbose and probably obscure essay on the subtly hidden yet deeply significant power of words over our states of being came spilling out.

i did not, however, forget about the visual aids promised, and i shall endeavor, while i’ve got the day off from my grueling 0 hour workweek, to construct the map and go through and post pictures a little bit later.

I’ve been verbose enough; i’ll let the pictures do most of the talking here. it’s mostly what you might expect: wonderful times, beautiful people, amazing places, special moments, now all in the form of fond memories. you know the story :)

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Salt Lake City, Snowbird

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Drive to Tahoe, comforts, addictions, and the lap of luxury, magnificent creatures

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special visitor, offroading in the desert, Mammoth, snow-covered volcano, juxtapositions of extremes. and yes, i shaved…

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back to Tahoe, Mt. Rose, Pacific beauty, and some kinda succulent ocean grass that reminds me of childhood

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what happened here?!?

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from the bottom of my heart, i’d like to once again thank all the persons in these pictures as well as the ones keeping up with my adventures here. you are all such a big part of what makes my life so beautifully rich. and an extra special thanks, as always, to Claire, for being who you are; and to Josh, Laura, Timmy, Ely and Tisken for sharing your home with us, hooking us up in Mammoth, and pointing us in all sorts of amazing directions.